Blame the Alcohol
by poke-a-spark
Summary: It's Christmas and Emma seems to be having trouble giving her crush a gift. Thank god for meddling and Ruby's enhanced senses. Fluff. Red Swan.


Red Swan (Red/Emma) Fluff. Deal with it ;P

**SUMMARY:** It's Christmas and Emma seems to be having trouble giving her crush a gift. Thank god for meddling and Ruby's enhanced senses. Fluff

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Once upon a Time or its characters. I am not making a profit from this story. In fact, if you recognize it… I probably don't own it. Actually, I'm kind of happy I don't own it; I had a hard enough time keeping my fish alive.

**Blame the Alcohol**

**o0o0o0o**

It was a tiny issue, really, and Emma didn't understand why so much seemed to rest on it.

…Or why she was currently standing outside Granny's inn, on Christmas Eve, while it was nearing midnight, with a gift under her arm. On second thought, she knew exactly how she landed herself in this mess; she got drunk. Drunk enough to practically ball her eyes out on Mary Margaret's shoulder as she blubbered on about the unfairness of life, what with her absent parents, her son's situation, and her falling for the town's number one waitress, before admitting to her that sometimes she wished the curse was real.

Thankfully, she can't remember most of the night. Mary Margaret, however, has suspiciously begun mothering her, well, _more_. This fact doesn't really bother her, especially since the two of them are usually alone when it happens; a comforting hug here, a bit of advice there, a cup of hot chocolate and homemade soup when the sniffles even threaten to emerge…

No. Emma doesn't necessarily dislike this new attention. She just won't admit to liking it. Ever.

But it was this that lead to Henry finding out about her interest in Ruby. Emma quite frankly doesn't know who to blame for this little fact; maybe Mary Margaret slipped up, or he heard Emma mention it. Maybe she should blame him for showing up unexpectedly.

But she won't, because he's her son. So Emma blames the alcohol she ingested a week before.

Henry didn't even give her time to be worried; to him, the thought of his mom going out with Little Red Riding Hood was almost as cool as his grandparents being Snow White and Prince Charming. Because apparently Little Red was a badass. And Ruby knew how to make a mean cup of hot chocolate.

So when her son dragged her around town, insisting she get 'Red' a Christmas gift, she couldn't really say no. She tried. He brought out the puppy dog eyes and his argument made sense. Admittedly, Mary Margaret's advice to beat out the competition, mainly Dr. Whale, made a bit more sense. So she shopped. All _freaking_ day.

Her attempts were futile, however, until they went to the last shop, Mr. Gold's. Not thinking she'd actually find anything in the store, she almost didn't enter, but Henry's insistence and the little niggling voice in her head refusing to even entertain the notion of Ruby picking _Whale_ had her walking through the front door. She tried to ignore Gold; it was hard. He had this knowing, smug-like look on his face.

Not that she'd know. Because she was ignoring him.

After searching through the, mostly somewhat disturbing, items, she had come up short at a neatly folded piece of red cloth. Something told her to unfold it; so she did. She also ended up buying it, at Henry's _quite forceful_ assistance. She didn't hear Gold's comments on it fitting the person she had in mind quite nicely.

Because she was _really_ trying to ignore him.

She promised Henry and Mary Margaret she'd give Ruby the present before Christmas.

That was a week ago. She's not a procrastinator; hence, she blames the alcohol.

She wasn't a chicken. Really. But here she is, in the cold, standing on Ruby's doorstep minutes from breaking her promise, because apparently a Christmas gift has to be given before Christmas.

She'd really like to know the name of the person who came up with that rule. And their address.

Eyeing the door, Emma takes a breath and reaches out her hand to knock, only for it to falter in mid-air and fall back to her side. Huffing, she steels herself and raises her hand once more, only to be thrown off kilter as the door suddenly opens.

"Well?" Ruby raises a brow, her breath appearing as white puffs in the chilly air. "Are you planning on standing on our doorstep all night, or…?"

"Ah," Emma stumbles over her words, wishing she had been allowed to have a drink, or three, before coming. The word vomit that had gotten her into this situation in the first place would have been extremely awesome. Now. At this moment. Yet the long ago ingested alcohol seemed to be mocking Emma, and instead she had difficulty forming even the simplest of words. "Or."

Ruby raised an eyebrow as she leaned against the doorjamb, a slight smirk making a home on her face. "I've been hearing you pacing and mumbling to yourself from my room for the past half hour."

"I-ah," Emma cleared her throat, half of her mind wondering if she had really made that much noise while the other half was scrambling for words. "For Christmas. For you" Emma flushed slightly as Ruby's grin widened. "I got this." Emma took a shaky breath and looked at the ground, fixating on Ruby's fluffy wolf slippers as she rubbed the back of her head, flustered. "I… got this for you, for Christmas."

The chiming of a clock somewhere from within the inn pierces her flustered brain, causing her head to snap up. "It's, umm," Emma mumbled. "Merry Christmas." She handed the carefully wrapped package to the taller girl. She was late.

Emma watched in morbid fascination, her insides screaming at her to run in the opposite direction, but a funny feeling in her stomach and Ruby's expression keep her rooted to the spot.

As Ruby slowly unfolded the gift, a strange sensation settled in the pit of her stomach, an unreadable expression slipping over her features. It was a lovely red cloak. Mesmerized, Ruby ever so slowly slipped it on over her festive red pajamas, before flipping the hood on. It felt strangely comfortable; strangely, it seemed to carry a sense of home.

Slowly bringing her gaze to that of the frozen sheriff in front of her, Ruby stepped forward and glanced up, causing Emma to glance up nervously as well. Not giving her time to step away as their eyes met again, Ruby surged forward, crushing her lips firmly against the cold ones in front of her.

As Emma's mind went blank as a wave of warmth crashed over her, three things stood firmly in her mind.

One; she loved mistletoe. Absolutely loved it.

Two; she was late, but Ruby didn't seem to mind, so she just wouldn't mention it to Henry or Mary Margaret. It was a stupid rule anyways.

Three; she blamed the alcohol, but maybe that wasn't always a bad thing.

**o0o0o0o**

**A/N:** Ah, the things your brain comes up with when your straining it for ideas; never exactly what you expect, but seems to work out in the end anyways.


End file.
